


all the places

by kuruk



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuruk/pseuds/kuruk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ritsuko’s hand was warmer than she could have foreseen. Misato kept her hand atop hers for an overlong moment, if only to make good on the gesture, before she retracted it and wiped the small film of moisture that had accumulated on her palm onto the counter.</p><p>[Misato and Ritsuko try their hands at friendship, again.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the places

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suitablyskippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitablyskippy/gifts).



> For the inimitable suitablyskippy, who requested fic about the similarly inimitable Katsuragi Misato. Now more than ever, Misato has become a rather important character to me, as has Ritsuko, so it was nothing short of a wonderful experience to explore their characters and relationship in this piece. Special thanks go out to khepria, whose solidarity kept me going, and transversely, whose advice about writing these two fake adults helped me with more than a few plot points. Skippy, I hope you enjoy this fic, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to write it for you!

The message caught her while she was rummaging through her suitcase for a pair of stockings. Her new cell phone hummed itself in circles under the comforter until she found and flipped it open. _Captain Katsuragi,_ it read in Japanese. _Welcome to Tokyo-3. A guide will meet you at the last stop on the M-line train at 0900. Attached is a copy of our informational manual for new personnel._ No number or return address listed, but she was in too much of a hurry to do more than begin downloading the pdf file before dropping the phone back onto the bed and resuming her search.

It was a short walk from the hotel to the nearest subway station, but Misato, addled by jetlag and the flat champagne she drank on the redeye, had overslept. By the time she made it down the escalator into the platform she was already twenty minutes behind schedule, and there was nary another commuter to be seen. Only the summer humidity had followed her down.

Deep underground, there was nothing to hear. The quiet unsettled her. God, she hated it. So she walked. First over to the platform’s edge, where she leaned over to look for the telltale headlights of the oncoming train in the tunnel. Then to duck into an alcove with two vending machines. She checked her reflection in it, rebalancing the beret atop her head and smoothing her fingers down her skirt. The florescent lights reflected harshly off the glass when she tipped her head at a certain angle, and she flinched back as if struck. Her head throbbed with renewed intensity, and she reached for the wad of bills in her jacket pocket before she remembered that she had not visited the currency exchange desk before leaving the airport. 

“Great,” she said, and eyed the honey bun as if it were the panacea for all her troubles. “Just...great.” 

The automated voice announcing the next arrival startled her out of her longing. She turned, the clack of her heels duller now for the rumbling reverberating through the station—and paused. On the opposite side of the platform stood a schoolgirl. Not much about her was discernible from that distance save the uniform, but something about her gave Misato pause. The girl stared. Misato stared back. Then the oncoming train rushed between them. It soon slowed, let out a chime, and opened its doors. When she stepped onto the empty car and looked out the window smudged with finger and palm-prints, Misato couldn't see the schoolgirl anywhere. 

She stood there for an overlong moment, unsure of what to think. Was there a way that she could have gotten out of sight so suddenly? How could she have vanished? Had she even been there to start with? The doors chimed again. The train lurched with forward movement. Misato rubbed her temples, felt briefly ridiculous, and grabbed onto the handrail. 

The last stop on the M-line was, for all intents and purposes, a dead-end. Other than the tunnel from whence she came, there were no visible exits. Straight ahead there was a row of the same metro pass scanners she had climbed over on her way in. But it was impossible to do that there. The large steel gates made sure of that. 

Her guide was exactly where the message had indicated he would be. Misato extended her hand for him to shake, then retracted it. She wasn’t in Hamburg anymore. She was, however, more than a half hour late. “Sorry for the delay!” she said, letting her contrition deepen her bow. “Waiting here couldn’t have been a very exciting post to keep." 

“N-no worries, Captain Katsuragi.” When she straightened her posture, it was to the sight of him saluting. She returned it. “I’m First Lieutenant Hyuga Makoto, ma’am. I was asked to show you into headquarters.” 

She nodded. “Then lead the way, Lieutenant.” 

He skittered back a few steps, then turned and crossed over to the scanners. From his breast pocket he pulled a dark red ID, and the massive gate rose once he swiped it through the machine. Cool air rushed out to meet them. Misato followed him in past the gates and onto an escalator. From up there, she could not see where they led.

She whistled, tonelessly. “I can tell why that welcome manual is taking so long to download,” she said. 

“Welcome to the Geofront, Captain,” said Hyuga graciously, and handed her a bound copy of the very same manual. “Um. Just in case you wanted a hard copy.” 

Misato took it. She thanked him, and thumbed open the cover to find the table of contents. None of it was particularly informative, upon closer inspection. Warnings on the sensitive nature of the work conducted at NERV HQ. Reminders that all employees signed a nondisclosure agreement along with their employment contracts; that everything inside the Geofront was classified under various, intensifying shades of top secret by the United Nations, and they were subject to being recorded therein. All the manual had to say about the work conducted there was research on the Geofront itself: investigations of the remarkable biodiversity in its ecosystem, the forces that could possibly have formed it, and so on. No names or titles listed. Absolutely no attributions. No indication that there was even a need for the work she had been hired to do...though she supposed that was the point, wasn’t it? By omitting something thoroughly enough, it really is like you’ve ensured it never existed. Retroactively, proactively. Either. Both. She closed the manual and tucked it under her arm, then leaned her elbow against the handrail. 

  
— . . . —

There was a woman waiting for them at the bottom of the escalator. Misato had first sighted her from several meters away. But the woman did not look up. She kept her head bowed, her gaze downcast and focused on something she held. The lower they descended, the more details Misato could make out: the labcoat she wore over a blue turtleneck; the cropped blonde hair; the clipboard she held. When there were only a few meters left between them, she finally looked up. The motion looked overly casual, as if rehearsed. 

“You’re late,” said Ritsuko, leveling Misato with a stern look. 

“Dr. Akagi,” Hyuga began, “this is Captain Katsu—” 

__“Hello to you too, Ritsuko,” Misato said._ _

__“Oh.” Hyuga looked back and forth between them. “The two of you have already met…?”_ _

__Misato rubbed her side. “Yes, we’re—”_ _

__“I can take it from here, Lieutenant,” Ritsuko said, and turned around. “Captain, if you’ll follow me.”_ _

__Misato stared after her, for a moment, her arms crossed. Then she turned to face Hyuga, and smiled. “Thanks for your help, Lieutenant.”_ _

__He saluted again. “Of course, Captain.”_ _

__It took her a few brisk strides to catch up to Ritsuko, who hadn’t bothered to wait for her. “Nice of you to come up to see me,” said Misato. “I can only imagine that you’re, um...taking me to see…?”_ _

__“You can relax,” Ritsuko said, after a moment. “Both the Commander and Vice-Commander are off-site today. As it stands, Lieutenant Hyuga and I are the only ones who know about how you were late on your first day, Captain Katsuragi.”_ _

__Misato chuckled self-consciously. “Sorry about that, by the way,” she said. “You know how it is, right?”_ _

__“I can’t say I do,” said Ritsuko flatly. “Though I can already tell that you haven’t changed very much.”_ _

__“Well,” said Misato, “I can tell you haven’t changed much yourself either, Ritsuko.” She meant to overstate the pique in her voice, but the words sounded more barbed than she had intended. She laughed, shortly, to cover it up._ _

__Misato could hear the answering smile in Ritsuko’s voice. As she spoke, Misato looked at the back of her head, and wondered if there was edge to it too._ “Yes, well...it’s been quite some time since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” _

__“Don’t say _that_ ,” Misato groaned, turning on her heel to follow Ritsuko’s sharp turn into an identical hallway. “It makes us sound older than we are.”_ _

__“You mean it makes us sound our actual ages.”_ _

__“Oh, shut up.” A pause, another turn, another identical, unfamiliar hallway. White paneled walls embossed with the NERV logo, a series of nondescript doors. “How do you even know your way around here? Everything looks exactly the same.”_ _

__“I’ve had some time to practice. You’ll have to get used to it too, Operations Director.”_ _

__Misato snorted humorlessly. “Not sure if practice will do me much good with this place.”_ _

__“It’ll have to,” said Ritsuko, and stopped walking. Misato very nearly bumped into her. Up close, there was a smell clinging to the back of Ritsuko’s neck that reminded Misato of Asuka, fresh from the entry plug, her hair matted and redolent with the stench of brine. She blinked once, twice, before she realized Ritsuko had opened a door, and was staring at her expectantly. “Well?” said Ritsuko._ _

__“Sorry,” Misato said, and ducked in._ _

__Inside there was a desk, with two chairs pulled in on each side. Ritsuko stepped forward to take one, and Misato took the other. Behind them, the door hissed shut._ _

__“So….” Misato cleared her throat. “Is it standard procedure for them to send the facility’s chief scientist to interview their new operations director?”_ _

__“Like I said, both the Commander and Vice-Commander are currently off-site, so handling your orientation falls to me. But ordinarily? No. Not for new personnel that aren’t direct reports.”_ _

“Is _that_ normal?” 

__“Is what normal?”_ _

__“For both the Commander and Vice-Commander to be off-site at once.”_ _

__Ritsuko didn’t bother looking up from the sheaf of papers. “It happens more often than not, though the circumstances were unforeseen this time,” was her answer, and, after unclipping a few of them from the clipboard, slid them across the table to Misato._ _

__The file read AYANAMI REI. Attached was a photo. Staring out at her from it was a young girl. Round face, full lips. Long lashes, red eyes. “So this is the First Child, isn’t….” She trailed off then._ _

__“Is there something wrong?”_ _

__Misato felt her throat working soundlessly. The feeling from the train overtook her again, this time as a creeping sensation up the length of her spine. Finally, she swallowed, and, grasping for the feeling of self-directed ridiculousness that had followed on its heels earlier, said, “Nothing. Just...deja vu.”_ _

__To her surprise, Ritsuko seemed to accept this easily enough. She removed her glasses and set herself to cleaning them with the sleeve of her labcoat. “There was...an incident just yesterday,” she said carefully. “Our intention was to have the results of Unit 00’s activation test ready for you by the time you arrived, but things didn’t go as we’d hoped.”_ _

__At that, Misato looked up sharply. “You tried activating the prototype?” Ritsuko nodded. “Was the pilot injured?” Ritsuko nodded again. “How bad?”_ _

__“She’s out of danger,” said Ritsuko slowly, “and we have her under constant medical supervision. She’ll recover, though not as quickly as we would have hoped.”_ _

__“As quickly as you’d hoped?” Misato waited, but received no answer. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, more pointedly this time._ _

__“No,” said Ritsuko. She put her glasses back on, and once again turned her gaze downward to look at the forms. “You would know more of what to expect here for yourself than I do. Your duties will be similar to the responsibilities you had at the German branch, after all. You handled the Second Child there; you will be handling the First Child here. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to meet with Rei until she’s out of the ICU.”_ _

__“That can’t be it,” Misato insisted. “You wouldn’t fly me over here from Hamburg to have me handle the First Child instead of the Second.”_ _

__Ritsuko’s lips thinned. “You don’t appreciate the promotion?”_ _

__“It’s not that at all.”_ _

__“Then I don’t see the problem.”_ _

__“Oh, goddamnit, Ritsuko. At least give me _something_ to go on here.”_ _

That, at last, had rattled her. Ritsuko peered at her over the frame of her glasses. As small a glimpse as it was, it made her seem younger. Not quite the way Misato remembered, but closer to the last instance of the Ritsuko in her memory than anything she had seen of her since arriving. Ritsuko looked away. Then she rubbed the bridge of her nose, and sighed. “There are...rumors. Rumors that the Marduk Institute’s latest report is due out soon,” she said. 

“The Third Child?” Comprehension dawned on Misato, then. “You transferred me to coordinate two active Eva pilots?”

__“Nothing’s certain yet,” said Ritsuko, holding up her hands. “If they’ve selected the Third Child, then they haven’t disclosed that information to us yet. There's no way to know for sure where or who they are, let alone if there's any truth to the rumors in the first place.”_ _

__“But…” Misato prompted her._ _

__Ritsuko sighed again. “But we want to be prepared if they have. With the Third Child’s arrival an imminent possibility, we thought it best to bring in an operations director to lend us...their expertise.”_ _

__“Ah,” said Misato. She was at a loss for what else she could have said in response to that. A heavy silence settled between the two of them._ _

__Finally, Ritsuko said, “That’s all I needed to tell you. Now that we’ve finished her, you should head down to the requisitions office to receive your equipment and NERV identification.” She stood brusquely, belatedly insulted. Leaned forward and took back the First Child’s information. "I need to go check on Rei, so if you'll excuse me, Captain Katsuragi."_ _

__Misato reached forward to grab her hand, but fell short. Her fingers fell over the photo of Ayanami Rei instead. That gave Ritsuko pause anyway. "Hey," Misato said. "Sorry about yelling like that. Really. It's just—frustrating. To be kept in the dark like this."_ _

Ritsuko had still not pulled back her hand. "Yes, well...I can understand that. You are our operations director now. Adding a professional relationship on top of a personal one can be trying. We should be...as forthcoming as we possibly can with one another, now that we're working together." 

__"Right," Misato said. "And, you know, it really has been too long. I get that you're busy now, but maybe we could set aside some time to catch up. Off hours, maybe. I'm staying at a hotel downtown, so we could meet at the bar. Like old times."_ _

"That...sounds fine. More than fine, actually. But there's no need to meet there," said Ritsuko. Gentler now, she retracted her hand. Misato let her, pushing the form after her. At that Ritsuko took another one of her forms, and handed it to Misato, picking up Rei’s as she went. 

__“What’s this?”_ _

__“The address of your new apartment.” She reached into her the inside pocket of her lab coat and, pulling out a cat-shaped keychain, placed it onto the desk. “And the key to said apartment.”_ _

__Misato blinked down at it. “Well, shit.”_ _

  
— . . . —

Her new firearm was practically identical to the one her old CO used to dole out before the department’s weekly tactical exercises: a Glock 17, standard issue for the few security personnel Gehirn diverted enough funds from their R&D budget to hire. It confirmed what she had always known: same organization, new coat of paint. The gun’s handle was scuffed, and her fingers brushed against chips in the slide’s nylon when she drew it back. She arched an eyebrow at the requisitions officer, and leaned forward onto the counter.

“You’ve got to have something better than this old thing,” she said, and when the man told her it was, Misato realized it had been a mistake to hit up requisitions before picking up her identification. The only thing was that requisitions had been the place she’d stumbled upon first, after wandering the halls for what seemed like a little less than an hour. So she smiled at him, all teeth, and asked, “Where would I go to get my ID taken?”

The photo was hardly flattering, but by the time she made it back to requisitions to present it to him, he let her exchange that old pistol and have her pick.

  
— . . . —

Ritsuko’s knock caught her in the middle of taking a permanent marker to the stats on her new NERV-issued ID. It was well past sundown by that time, though it was still hot enough that Misato had the AC unit working at full blast. When she opened the door, she found Ritsuko carrying a small potted cactus and a bottle of wine.

“They’re housewarming gifts,” Ritsuko said by way of explanation. “I thought your place could use this until your belongings arrive.” She handed the cactus to Misato, and followed her into the kitchen. “And I thought we could use the bottle for tonight.”

“Did us one better,” said Misato, and opened the refrigerator to show her the two six-packs of Yebisu, still in their plastic bags. She had walked five blocks searching for the nearest convenience store to pick up.

Ritsuko grimaced at the sight. “I see you still drink that swill,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t find any of this ‘swill’ in Hamburg. You’d think they’d be in stock somewhere, but no.” She sighed. “Fifteen years post-Second Impact and international trade is still shot to hell.”

“I hope you can forgive the UN for having higher priorities than facilitating regular access to your favorite imported beer.”

Misato laughed, rummaging through the cabinets in hopes of finding a corkscrew. “You should serve that chilled,” Ritsuko said, but Misato had already taken the corkscrew to it. She grabbed a can of beer for herself and a plastic cup for Ritsuko, walked out of the kitchen. She sat down on the floor with her back against the counter, and kicked off her heels. They hit the far wall one after the other. A jarring percussion. 

Ritsuko sat across from her a moment later, keeping her shoes on. “So how do you like it? she asked. 

“It's nice. A little empty though,” Misato admitted.

“Maybe you should get a pet,” said Ritsuko, tipping back her plastic cup and grimacing a little. “That should give you enough companionship, shouldn’t it?”

“Me? With a pet?” She barked out a laugh. “Didn’t you forbid me from babysitting your cat back in college?”

Ritsuko rolled her eyes. “I would hope you’ve gotten more responsible, after handling the Second Child for the past six months.”

“She wasn’t a _cat_ , Ritsuko. I just oversaw her sync tests. Feeding or housing her wasn't on me.”

“Stick to the cactus then,” suggested Ritsuko. “If it even survives the night, that is.”

“Ha,” said Misato dryly, and downed what was left of her beer in four, long gulps. She got up and, brought the rest of the six-pack in one hand and the wine bottle in the other.

Ritsuko extended her cup for more, said, “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it tonight."

“Why?”

“Like I told you, I have a rather important patient,” said Ritsuko, after a moment.

“You mean the First Child?”

“Yes. She’s not in critical condition anymore,” said Ritsuko. Her lips left smudged, ridged marks on the plastic. “She’s an ideal patient.” And here she chuckled, short and mirthless. “So I think the two of you will get along just fine. Besides, your experience handling the Second Child made you the most qualified candidate for the job.”

“Asuka made it easy for me,” Misato replied. Though they were only half-true, the words sprung off her tongue reflexively. The thing about Asuka that made it easy was that she liked doing things herself. She would attend her classes at university and apply herself to sync tests, even without being told. Asking her to was superfluous, which to Asuka seemed an insult to her "independence." Whatever that meant for a fourteen-year-old in her position, anyway. Prompting only made her rail at whoever asked and redouble her efforts with vicious intensity. Watching her revel in her own accomplishments without proper context would make it seem like she’d won some kind of contest instead of achieving new and unparalleled success in piloting a bioweapon. For a moment, Misato couldn't remember what she was like at Asuka's age. Then she did, all at once, and regretted it. She swallowed another mouthful, aware now that that hadn't been the first time.

“I...know the feeling,” said Ritsuko. “Mother left behind a wealth of research for me to continue. It was intimidating, but it gave me a good foundation to build up from.”

The mention of her mother gave Misato pause. She hesitated, for a moment, then reached out. Ritsuko’s hand was warmer than she could have foreseen. Misato kept her hand atop hers for an overlong moment, if only to make good on the gesture, before she retracted it and wiped the small film of moisture that had accumulated on her palm onto the counter. Beside her, Ritsuko radiated tension. Just like that, the easy moment had gone.

After a moment, Misato cleared her throat, and said, “I’m...sorry about your mother, by the way.”

“That was five years ago,” Ritsuko said plainly. "It hardly matters any more."

“Yeah, but...I don’t know. I never told you that, and I should have. Shouldn’t I?”

“But you did. You called after you heard. You left a voicemail.”

“I would’ve come back to help with the arrangements and everything if you’d asked.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Misato knew they were dishonest. Ritsuko did too. The look she gave Misato cored her. “You wouldn’t have," she said, "and that’s fine. We were both busy. You'd just flown into Hamburg for your position at the third branch, and I was handling Mother’s affairs...considering the Commander’s offer to take over for her.” She averted her gaze. “You wouldn’t have, and neither would I. And that’s fine.”

Misato bristled, even though she felt the truth to her words. Or perhaps it was precisely because of that. It was almost funny. Back when they first met, years earlier, Misato had valued Ritsuko precisely because she made her feel her age. At the time she had been both severe beyond her years and too sheltered to seem anything but far, far younger. A strange combination, but one that sieved the words from Misato, so that they bubbled forth from her lips, because Ritsuko listened. Misato had thought she could understand her by the way she kept her shoulders straight under the weight of her mother's shadow. Now, as adults in her new, empty apartment, having reemerged out from the ground she’d descended into that morning, the words stung for a reason Misato could not readily articulate. What could be said? When did the words become so hard to find? She had no answers for herself. So she smiled, and took another swig of her beer, and said, “Fine. You’re right. It is. It’s...us.”

  
— . . . —

She dreamed an old dream that night.

First she blinked, momentarily snow-blind. Then, when she opened her eyes, she saw the icy promontory her father pointed out to her from the helicopter when they first arrived. Now it was only just ahead. From overhead the rookery had looked like an undulating black mosaic tile against the expanse of white, but in the moments before the first explosion she thought she could make out the penguins’ white underbellies in the distance. She turned, unwittingly, to point them out to him. She’d had to walk out by herself to get him to leave the dig site even for a moment to follow, and her methods left little harmony between them. Yet in that moment she’d turned to look at him, and in the next there was the explosion.

The dream lurched with it. First the impact into her chest, the shrapnel. She fell, stomach churning with vertigo, and then she was being carried. Her chest was numb. The cold stung the skin beneath her parka, even though her father was holding her close against the winds. Whatever last words he had murmured for her back then, Misato could not hear them. They had been swallowed by the din. The penguins' frantic squawking. The roar of the giant of light. The storm's howling, reduced to a terrible white noise. There was no room left in the air for the sound of his voice, so he only dropped her in the capsule, as he always did, and like before the cross fell like a benediction from his hand, down onto her body, as his own disintegrated into thin air. It was that small, second impact, that roused her.

Misato woke with a start. It was already morning, and her head still ached. She closed her eyes again, and inhaled deep through her nostrils. Then she got up slowly from where she’d spent the night underneath the counter, knocking empty cans to and fro as she did. On the counter was an unopened can she’d had the good sense to save for that moment. The morning after. She drank it small, tepid sips, squinting through the dull morning light. Hair of the dog, and all that.

She found Ritsuko smoking out on the terrace. Her pack of cigarettes was nearly empty, the remains crushed to ash underfoot. Neither of them said anything. Misato wondered if it was because what had been said the night before, or if this, too, was them. _It's us_ , she'd said, but now she decided that she couldn’t tell. Not right then. In the distance Tokyo-3’s bulk rose up high and sleek: a conglomeration of skyscrapers clustered hive-like in the city center. It was, she thought, rather beautiful, and winced at the sight of all the reflected light.

“We have to leave soon,” said Ritsuko at last, her voice quiet. “You don’t expect me to be late with you, do you?”

“Nah, of course not. I wouldn’t even think of it,” Misato replied hoarsely, but they stood in all that light, unsure which rays came firsthand or reflected, and did not move for quite a while.

  
— . . . —

They parted ways at the escalators with little more said, except that she could not visit the lab yet, but perhaps tomorrow, and that she could reach Central Dogma by taking that elevator. She would forward her a status report on Rei, the prototype, and Test Type Unit 01 that afternoon. Misato watched her go, for a moment, before she turned and walked away.

There was an envelope waiting when she arrived at her workstation. It was manilla, thin. She opened it with little fanfare, and pulled out a similar file to the one Ritsuko had shown her of the First Child the day before. Some of the information there was redacted, but there, in the upper left corner, was a picture of the boy. The Third Child. He was young. No older than the First or Second Children. Looked pretty normal, all things considered. Cute even, in that teenaged, unassuming way, if a little pasty looking.

“Ikari Shinji,” Misato read aloud, and decided she knew what to bring up, when she finally met with her superiors.


End file.
